Bits And Pieces: A Drabble Collection
by ovolamp
Summary: ON HIATUS. SLASH. In which Alex dislikes his ceiling, Ben is caught red-handed and Tom has a serious allergic reaction. Pairings: Alex/Wolf, Ben/Ash and Tom/Snake.


**A/N: **This is my latest project. For the past couple of months I've had some insane writers block and have started doing prompt writing to try and get back on track. This is pretty much SLASH all the way through - basically every pairing for Alex Rider that floats my boat, dropped in random situations. I hope people enjoy reading. x).

**Warning:** SLASH. That generally means boy/boy, so if you don't like that kind of thing I'd suggest wandering off. Also, while the rating is T at the moment, it is likely to go up later on. **Both Alex and Tom are over the age of eighteen in this story. **There is some swearing.

**Characters: **If I introduce names for characters, I'll put them here. So, just to avoid confusion: James/Wolf, Sholto/Snake. **  
****  
Pairings: **In this round - James!Alex, Ash!Ben, Sholto!Tom.

**Prompts: **ceiling, bacon, bee. (I get these off a random word generator site - I agree that they aren't that great. Some drabbles might center heavily on them, others might just mention them. It depends on where my mind goes.)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Alex Rider.

Sorry for the enormous introduction, but it's best to get the housekeeping out of the way early. Feedback is treasured, if you have the time. x).

* * *

**Bits And Pieces: A Drabble Collection  
[1/?]**

* * *

**Ceiling**  
**x**

"I don't like it."

Alex lay on his back amongst the forest green sheets; one hand nestled behind his head and the other holding a glass of red wine. It was half full and bitter – the color of congealed blood left in the sun for too long. He loved drinking it. Not for the taste, but for what it represented. Choice. Alex treasured choice. Up until this point in life, he'd had very little.

"What is it?" Came the tired voice of James from across the room. He was still unbuttoning his army fatigues, having only just gotten in from work.

Alex let his attention wander over to where his boyfriend was getting undressed. Somehow the man had managed to slip out of his pants and into a more comfortable pair of trackies without the blonde noticing. "I don't like the ceiling."

Finished unbuttoning, James shrugged off his heavy combat jacket and reached down to grip the hem of his white singlet. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's-" Alex's mouth went dry as the soldier started to tug the singlet over his head, revealing a fit, lean body with taught skin and rippling muscle. Not having done up the cords of his sweatpants, they hung a little low, exposing his hips and the small of his back. "Do you have to put a shirt on?"

James glanced over from where he was reaching for one, raising an all too knowing eyebrow. Alex feigned innocence and looked away, casually sipping his drink. The soldier shook his head and snorted, grabbing a cotton nightshirt. "It's cold."

"We can cuddle." Alex offered practically.

James flicked the switch by the door, letting the bedside lamps light the room. "You're wearing one."

"I didn't know if you were coming home tonight." Alex replied, setting his glass down as his boyfriend advanced on the bed.

"Yeah." James agreed, bedsprings creaking as he settled on his side of the bed. Alex let himself tip towards James as the mattress dipped. "I should have called."

"Don't worry about it." He reassured, feeling inexplicably satisfied as James hooked an arm around his waist and pulled their bodies flush against each other. Alex sighed contently and buried his face in the crook of James' neck. "It was a nice surprise."

"Hm." James grunted. He wasn't particularly good at expressing himself through words. Running his fingers through the blonde's hair, he ran his eyes over Alex's side of the room as the younger man nestled into him for the long haul. "Why was the ceiling bothering you?"

He'd found the red wine, sticking out like a sore thumb on the dresser. Alex hated red wine. He hated all kinds of alcohol – even beer, much to James' horror. "It's white."

"You don't like white?"

"No." Alex's voice was becoming more and more muffled. Whether it was because he was literally speaking into James, or because he was getting tired, James didn't know. He was beginning to suspect the latter. "You know I hate white."

James hummed thoughtfully. "You hate a lot of things."

"So do you."

Definitely tired, James thought. The two of them had established long ago that James didn't hate things – he just disliked them. It was a fundamental difference. But James didn't point that out. Alex was already breathing slower, his body getting heavier the closer he came to sleep. The soldier wasn't about to disturb that with a petty argument. "I'll paint it for you tomorrow."

For a long moment, Alex didn't answer. Then he shifted, turning his head sideways so that James could hear him clearly. "What color?"

"I don't know. What color do you want?"

"I'm not sure." Alex murmured, sounding sleepy. His eyes closed a few seconds later, eyelashes fluttering against James' skin. James hadn't put a shirt on. "Maybe something bright."

"I'll paint you a fucking rainbow." James promised, reaching down to pull the duvet up around them. He made sure they were both equally covered, though he knew most of it would inevitably end up on Alex's side of the bed. "How does that sound?"

Alex smiled. "Perfect."

* * *

**Bacon  
x**

"I thought I smelled bacon."

Ben closed his eyes, knowing the words were as good as the final kiss of a gun against his head. He'd been ordered by Jones to canvas the man's room, discreetly, quietly – they needed to know if their biggest asset was in safe hands.

"Though you don't look like a cop," continued the voice, slowly drawing closer to the spot where Ben was leaning over an open shelf. The lock on the filing cabinet had been a bugger to pick –it was the extra time he'd taken to do it that got him caught. "There's usually a lot more gunfire and riot shields when they come and see me – tell me, which agency are you with?"

Ben withdrew his gloved fingers from between two manila folders, feeling an awful lot like a naughty child being found with their hands inside the cookie jar. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"FBI, CIA, MI5, MI6?" It seemed like the other man hadn't heard him, or that he didn't feel the lie was worth acknowledging. Ben couldn't blame him there – it had been pretty shit. "How about you turn around, kid? I want to see your face."

_Bad move_, Ben thought. But there really wasn't any choice. Raising his hands in the air, Ben pivoted on his feet to face his target.

Ash was pointing a gun at him, though Ben had suspected that from the start. With a white towel tucked around his hips and droplets peppering his tanned skin, it was obvious that the seasoned spy had been in the shower. It was still running in the background – the reason Ben hadn't heard or thought to look for him. "I'm not-"

"Don't give me excuses." Ash cut him off sharply, dark eyes threatening as they scoured his face. Ben could almost see the data being filed away in the man's brain. If he got out of this, Ash was always going to recognize him. "If you want to live, I suggest you start negotiating with me."

There was a lengthy pause – Ben swallowed. "I know who you are – you're the one who was following Alex in the airport."

"No," Ben tried again, wincing as the gun was shoved roughly under his chin. He angled his head upward to get away from the cold metal, exposing the fluttering pulse point in his neck. "I wasn't-"

Ash watched it, smiling savagely. "Judging by how young you look, I'd say MI6."

Fighting to keep his breathing under control, Ben forced himself to look the man in the eye. He was paler that a ghost, but he refused to let his voice shake. "If you already knew that, why did you bother asking me?"

"Figured I'd give you a chance to come clean," Ash answered, stepping closer. He pressed the gun deeper, provoking a soft noise from the younger man's throat. "I'm going to give you one more, alright? Try not to fuck this one up."

"O-okay," Ben said. He was watching the gun now, going slightly cross-eyed as he tried to keep it in sight, expression twisting like he'd just swallowed a lemon as Ash casually fiddled with the trigger. _Please don't shoot me_.

"If you get this right, I won't." Came the reply, and Ben wanted to kick himself for blurting that out. It was kind of a bad time to start losing his shit. "Pay close attention, alright? Good. Now, what's your name?"

Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Ben wasn't allowed to answer that, but he figured he was going to die anyway. "Ben."

"Ben…?" Ash prompted.

"Daniels." Ben replied, blinking sweat out of his eyes. He swallowed again as Ash raised an appraising eyebrow, gun shifting. "My name is Ben Daniels."

Ash took the final step. Their noses bumped, hot breath brushing against each other's skin. Ash replaced the gun with his hand, fingers stretching over the younger man's throat, squeezing. "Look at me."

Ben did.

"You're not going to come back here. You're going to go back to Blunt," the name was nearly spat out, a rarely seen anger rising to the surface. "You're going to tell him you found nothing. You came into my room – I wasn't here, you searched. That's it. You got it?"

Ben tried to nod, but the other man's hand got in the way. "I got it."

"Good." Ash went to let him go. In fact, he had every intention to do so and return to his shower before the hot water ran out. But somebody knocked. On the door.

"Room service," a young, feminine voice called seconds before the handle started moving. The hinges creaked as she started to open the door.

Security Breach.

Ash swore. Shoving the gun into the filing cabinet, he grabbed the younger spy and rammed him up against the wall. Before Ben got it into his head to take advantage of the situation and turn the tables, they were kissing.

_Kissing_.

"Mr. Howe- oh! Oh my!" The young lady stood frozen in the doorway, mouth ajar. She was holding onto an industrial vacuum cleaner, which she was poised to drag in. Ash mentally berated himself for choosing to stay in this hotel– the cleaning staff were too good at their jobs. "I – I'm so, so sorry! I didn't know you had company!"

Ash took his time surfacing. Pulling away from their initial kiss, he went back for another taste several times before turning toward the woman. "It's fine, ma'am. I should have put a sign on the door. But could you come back in, say," he glanced over at the clock on the wall, and then flicked his eyes over to appraise Ben. "An hour? We should be done by then."

"I – I…" Her face flushed at the implications, but she quickly composed herself. "Of course. Shall I put a sign up for you?"

"That would be great."

The door closed with a deft _snap_.

Ash rubbed the saliva off his bottom lip, giving the still shell-shocked Ben a faintly curious look. "So, why did you French me?"

Ben blinked, frowned, glared as the realization hit home. His lips were puffy and bruised. "_You_ Frenched _me_."

"Huh." Ash grunted, considering it for a moment. Shrugging his shoulders, he retrieved his gun from the filing cabinet and closed it. He'd have to move the files later – apparently the penthouse security wasn't up to par. "Well, you may as well make yourself comfortable, kid. She might get curious if you leave too soon, and I'm not in the mood to answer questions."

* * *

**Bee  
x**

"You didn't tell me you had allergies."

Sholto was usually a pragmatic guy – until it came to someone he loved getting hurt. Though to be completely fair, it wasn't Tom's fault that the bee had stung him. He hadn't even provoked it – that much. So what if he shook the bush it was in. This was public land.

Tom had as much of a right to disturb that bush as the bee did. He was pretty sure there was a clause out there that said that. Somewhere. And as soon as his throat stopped seizing up, he was going to find it. Just to prove Sholto wrong. He loved his boyfriend, truly, but the soldier was too much of a big-hearted greenie sometimes. Seriously, the man had started lecturing _him _about _killing_ the bee before promptly realizing that hey, his lover was kind of _dying _over here.

"Jesus, Tom." Sholto was snapping as he injected the EpiPen into the shorter man's thigh. He had one arm wrapped around Tom's ribs, both supporting and stopping him from trying to evade the needle. "This is the kind of thing you're supposed to _tell _your partner."

While the ability to breathe was delightful, Tom couldn't help but groan as the pain in his leg got worse. The EpiPen needle was about an inch long and sturdy enough to stab through thick denim without breaking. It was really beginning to hurt. "Surprise," he rasped, tongue still a bit thick in his mouth. "Do you like your birthday present?"

The look Sholto gave him could have stripped paint. "That isn't funny."

"I thought it was." Tom said, then yelped as Sholto pulled out the needle. He gripped his thigh with a white-knuckled hand, pouting. "What's wrong with you? That hurt!"

"Excuse me for saving your life." Came the sour reply as Sholto re-capped the Pen and pocketed it. He so badly wanted to stalk away and take a minute to cool down, but Tom was still a little shaky and there was nothing to save him if he got stung again. "Honestly. What would have happened if I wasn't here? What would you have done then?"

Tom grabbed a fistful of his boyfriend's leather jacket under the guise of steadying himself, though really it was to make sure the man didn't get any ideas to wander off. "I imagine I would have injected it myself."

Sholto growled. He was never going to win this argument, mostly because it was a stupid argument to begin with. Tom had obviously lived with this for most of his life – he knew how to take care of himself. Sholto was just angry because he'd been scared. He expected to lose people back in Iraq, in Afghanistan, but not here. And certainly not Tom.

"Just…" Sholto ran his free hand through a mess of dirty blonde hair, trying to soothe his rattled nerves. Everything was alright now. Crisis averted. No lives lost. "… Be more careful next time, okay?"

Tom craned his neck to look him in the eye, nose brushing the underside of his chin. Their size difference got in the way sometimes, and Tom had to push onto his tiptoes to kiss Sholto's jawline – it was the only thing he could reach. "I'll try."

Sholto tried to stay impassive, but he couldn't ignore his partner's attentions for too long. After Tom nearly sent them sprawling into the same bush that had caused the trouble in the first place, he leant down and pecked him softly on the lips. "Good. Now let's get out of here before those little bastards come back."

"What?" Tom asked as Sholto started herding him back down the hill they'd walked up not ten minutes ago. He dug his feet in stubbornly. "We're almost at the summit. Why are you turning back now?"

"I don't want you getting stung again." Sholto replied, switching tactics and reaching for his hand. Tom was a sucker for that kind of thing, unable to resist entwining his fingers with Sholto's.

"There's another Pen in the car. You can run and grab it if I do."

"What if I don't get back in time, hm?" When the man started walking, Tom was quick to follow, unwilling to break the hold. Though the pout was starting to resurface, and his puppy-dog eyes were out in full. "No, I'm not going to risk it. But feel free to get stung on the way back to the car."

"You suck." Tom grumbled, trying to match the other man's longer stride. The whole idea had been to watch the sunset from the top of the hill. Maybe have a kiss and a cuddle – or a tumble in the long grass while no one was looking. But that wasn't going to happen now.

Sholto heard the dejection and sighed, squeezing his partner's hand. "How about we drive down to the beach instead?"

"It'll be cold."

"You can snuggle with me under my jacket."

That was incredibly hard to resist, but Tom steeled himself. He could milk this for more, he just knew it. "… My leg still hurts."

"I'll kiss it better."

Sold. Hook, line and sinker. Tom nestled into his boyfriend's side with a contented sigh. Sholto grinned. "I thought that would work."


End file.
